Coming on the heels of Brian DePalma’s Sisters, with its dual screen gimmick, 1973’s Wicked, Wicked must have seemed like a good idea. After all, if a little dual screen is good, a lot of dual screen—actually an entire movie of dual screen—must be great. That’s the key, people, if you ever want to be a Hollywood film producer—take an idea that worked elsewhere, steal it, flog it, exhaust it. Wicked, Wicked concerns a security guard trying to catch a masked serial killer, but does the plot really matter? Do gaping holes in structural logic matter? How about a supporting character who insists upon wearing blonde wigs when she knows quite well the killer only targets blondes? Is any of that important? We think not. All that matters is the double-screen, the duo-vision, the ingenious cinematic schizophrenia of Wicked, Wicked that was unleashed on the American filmgoer for the first time today in 1973. You know you want it. You know you want it.
Want to know how to make a bad movie better? Want to know how to make a bad movie better?